Page 41 of His Scarlette Obsession
I know it’s my neck on the chopping block, but...I can pray about this.
Can’t I?
I mean...I can, right?
Or no?
I haven’t even completely closed my eyes when I sense something start to stir—
No, oh no.
And it’s none other than the inner voice of my conscience—
Oh, my darling Scar.
Which unfortunately sounds very much like all the snarky, smarty mean girls I love to hate in the contemporary YA romance novels that I used to devour.
Shouldn’t you have thought of praying before going to bed with the sheikh?
I know, I’m sorry.
Well, it’s too late.
What do you mean?
We don’t do divorce, darling.
I never said I wanted one—
Then we don’t have a problem, do we?
Six hours earlier
Grandma Jackie’s kitchen wraps around me like a hug the second I walk in, and all the panicky feelings I struggled to overcome in the stylist’s shiny, shimmery, and splendid salon finally start to fade.
This place is not only comfortably familiar; it’s also the complete opposite, with everything here making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The scent of vanilla and fresh bread. The sound of eggs being beaten. And best of all is the way my Grandma Jackie makes me feel as she turns to look at me.
The wisdom in her eyes. The calmness of her expression. And oh, the gentleness of her smile.
Before I know it, I’ve already run into her arms, just like how I used to do when I was a little girl, and it was Grandma Jackie whom I only trusted to keep me safe when the world didn’t make sense.
“It’s going to be alright, dear. It’s going to be alright.”
She guides me to the tattered couch by the window, just like how she always would all these years. Whether I’m a little girl, a teenager, or an adult—I don’t think part of me will ever change. I trust what she has to say, and I always will.
“I’ll give you a few more seconds to let it all out, and then you will wipe your tears and compose yourself.”
Right.
I think I also forgot to say that Grandma Jackie wasn’t always a baker. Prior to discovering her passion for beating dough, she used to beat up the bad guys for a living. She served in the police force for over two decades, retired early when Grandpa Jackson, her partner, was killed in action.
A part of my heart died with him,she once explained.And that’s not good in my line of work. Not fair to my colleagues, to fight alongside someone who’s ready to go to Heaven.
“All good now?” Grandma Jackie asks when I’m done sniffing and blowing my nose with the dish towel she handed me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I always call her this when she’s in her tough cop mode.
“When the three of us talked earlier, I thought we had everything settled.”
